Author's Preface:
This is an expansion story to the four part "Deanne and Me" series which I wrote between 10/22/2009 and 08/22/2010 (they're all published here on Literotica).
If you don't recall the interesting scenario that occurred in those stories:
Back in 2009, Art had been introduced to this lady named Deanne. She was injected into his life when, as a Corporate Manager, she had been sent to take him to Hawaii so she could train him for his new capacity within the company.
The two of them became close friends almost immediately and are still friends to this day.
Over the years as he moved higher and higher up the corporate ladder, he and Deanne had interacted through their job duties, and have stayed connected personally by chatting at least once a week via text and Social Media. They had never been able to get schedules arranged to accommodate them getting together privately in person again, which didn't please either of them.
Once in a while as the years passed by, he recalled with great pleasure, some of the intimacies they enjoyed so often during those two weeks of his training. Yes, he jacked off more than one time when recalling some of the things they did.
Deanne is several years younger than Art and was still working for the same company, to the best of his knowledge. As far as he knew, she is the head honcho of the entire call center division, responsible for the activity within every one of the numerous call centers the company has. (Unknown to Art, Deanne had taken early retirement just a few months ago and she had decided to secretly try to locate him.)
During the years he worked at the call center, he eventually became in charge of the call centers in the eastern half of the contiguous forty-eight states, and communicated often with Deanne. He knew he had stronger feelings for her than he probably should, and even to this day he always makes certain to have a 'proper' picture of Deanne in the living room of his home. He has several 'naughty' pictures of her in his bedroom, and more in storage.
Around 2011, he bought the property and the house he now lives in and after having retired at the age of sixty-two, Art had made a few attempts to make connections to go see Deanne, but none of them ever materialized because of one reason or another.
He figured she had some 'hunk' in her life and hadn't told him to 'protect his feelings' as she would say, so he didn't try super hard. She never gave any indication either way to him during any of their conversations about her relationship status, and he never directly asked her. She was so sexy, smart, and fun to be with that he couldn't imagine her staying single like he had. Yes, it's undeniable that he has 'carried a torch' for her since they first became acquainted.
Okay. Now, let's fast forward to the present day:
Having completed putting the last of the recently washed dishes into the cupboard, Art went downstairs to the basement where he had a model railroad set up. This was quite a layout and he had been working on it for many years, having started it almost immediately after moving into this home.
Several hours quickly passed as he was deeply involved in the endless pleasure of 'playing' with his trains. Looking at the clock, he reluctantly decided he had better go upstairs and start working on the revisions to the computer script for the website he has.
It was a little after 8:00PM as he booted up the laptop and then went to the kitchen. After brewing a pot of coffee, which was still his choice of drink when script writing, he carried a cup full of the black magic liquid back with him and placed it on the cup warmer beside his laptop.
The revisions were going very well, but he again had to stop for a moment to go drain out some of the several cups of coffee he had drank. Returning to the laptop, just as he was ready to sit down, something very odd happened.... the doorbell rang!
"Who the devil is that at this hour?" he asked himself while putting on his robe. You see, he is almost always nude when at his very secluded and isolated home, but he kept robes in various places in case something like this ever happened. His home was so isolated that in all the years he had been there, only once did an unexpected person show up -- now twice.
Grasping one of his revolvers that he has placed in strategic locations, he slipped it into the pocket of his robe. His hand calmly gripped the handle and his trigger finger was in the 'ready' position as he reached for the doorknob.
"Who's there?" he loudly asked as his hand then went to the deadbolt on the door.
Having opened the door before hearing a response, he was quite surprised to see a lady standing there in front of him. She was very attractive and he'd guess maybe three to five years younger than him. The light from the LED porch light hid little of this lady's shape as she stood there in a nicely contoured dress that ended just above her knees.
He smiled slightly and ask, "what's up?"
His internal, silent answer was, 'amazingly, my cock!' as he felt the tip of his rarely hard cock brushing against the material of his robe while his body surprisingly graced him with about half of an erection.
"Excuse the rudeness of my interruption, I didn't think I'd be here this late," said the lady as she blushed ever so slightly and grinned. "I see you're in your robe," she added.
"Only because I had to answer my door," he said in a tone that gave a slight indication of his cautiousness but left little doubt about his displeasure of being disturbed. Continuing to look at her while waiting for an explanation as to the reason she came to his home, especially so late at night, he realized he felt oddly comfortable around her. He was quite aroused too, so that, he figured, could be why he felt so at ease.
"I'm so sorry," she began. "I'm looking for a gentleman by the name of Art," she cautiously stated. "I was told you might be him," she continued with as her voice trailed off into silence.
While that shocking confession from this lovely vixen at his door sunk in, Art stood there, silent, desperately trying to figure out if he knew her, and how he knew her, if he did.
"And you are...." he asked.
With a nervous laugh, she answered, "Oh! I'm sorry! How very dumb of me... I'm Deanne," as she reached her hand out to shake his hand.